


Sneaking suspicion

by oncetherelivedaboy



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Confessions, M/M, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28850253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncetherelivedaboy/pseuds/oncetherelivedaboy
Summary: It had snuck up him, this thing that had started as necessary companionship and turned into quiet nights listening to Wilde read aloud while Zolf tied the freshly white hair back into loose braids.Somehow, in the midst of a war, in the midst of lost friends and unknown enemies, and the end of the goddamn world, they’d gone domestic, or as domestic as you could get when you were jumping between safe houses and air ships and ursan cities, going on missions and quarantining upon return.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52





	Sneaking suspicion

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, but like. I'm trash. enjoy

It had snuck up him, this thing that had started as necessary companionship and turned into quiet nights listening to Wilde read aloud while Zolf tied the freshly white hair back into loose braids.

Somehow, in the midst of a war, in the midst of lost friends and unknown enemies, and the end of the goddamn world, they’d gone domestic, or as domestic as you could get when you were jumping between safe houses and air ships and ursan cities, going on missions and quarantining upon return.

That’s how these nightly rituals had started. After Zolf and Oscar had been out on a mission together, scouting out some new lead on Zolf’s kraken theory, they had been cooped up in that damn cell for a week, just the two of them.

\--

Zolf wasn’t finicky about his looks, but he did try to keep his beard neat, one of his remaining ties to his family and his people. In the evenings he’d brushes it out, folding it expertly between his fingers. Wilde, when seeing this had attempted the maneuver himself, his hair just long enough to be pulled back now, but not enough for him to see what he was doing in any capacity. The oil in his hair from the last few days in the cell and not being able to have a bath left it sticking out at odd angles. His attempt at the braid had turned more into a tangle.

Zolf by this point had been quietly reading in the corner, but hearing the huff of frustration, had looked up to see a defeated looking Wilde.

“C’mere” Zolf said, sitting up as he closed his book, tucking it under the pillow.

“It’s fine. I’m fine, just…”

“Get over here, that thing on your head is a sorry excuse for a braid and I won’t stand for it.” There is no malice in his voice, and Wilde’s mouth quirks into a small half smile. He winces at that, the still fresh wound pulled tight as he does so. It was a nasty thing, carving out a harsh line on his face. Zolf still remembers the blood on his hands as he’d carried Wilde out of the building, can remember the stitches he sewed so delicately as Wilde tried not to cry out in pain in this very cell.

Wilde does eventually move closer, taking the book from under the pillow and opening it to the bookmarked page.

“Where were you?” Zolf points of the line as he begins. Listening to the bard read in a low tone, as he picks out the braid with his fingers. Zolf is gentle as he brushes, Wilde can never get it detangled without tugging, without pulling at his scalp, but Zolf takes his time, Wilde is nearly finished with the chapter when Zolf finishes with the tangles. Oscar continues to read as Zolf’s fingers deftly separate his hair into two sections.

He doesn’t tug as he braids, not like how Wilde’s mother had pulled it taut when she braided her children’s hair. He folds more hair into each strand as it goes down his scalp. He ties it off with a strip of leather before moving to the other side to follow the same procedure. Zolf says nothing when Wilde stops reading, when he lets out a sigh and just enjoys the feel of hands on his scalp, soaking in what feels like the first comfortable moment in months, even if they are in quarantine. 

“You still with me Wilde?” Zolf asks after he ties off the second braid.

“Yes, I uh...” he stammers as he speaks, something so rare that Zolf almost chuckles, but keeps it to himself.

“It’s nice to let others help sometimes.”

“I suppose so.” Zolf leans back against the wall

“Keep reading?” Oscar nods, climbing up to sit on the cot next to Zolf, reading quietly. Zolf leaning back and just watching as the words form on his lips, he’s read the book before, he’d been reading it now more as a way to pass the time, but there is a new level to the way it flows when Wilde reads.

\--

Zolf knows that the moment in the cell wasn’t the moment he fell in love, but he knew that it may have been the moment he admitted it to himself. With the fresh scar and grubby clothes and days left in quarantine together, he knew that in some way he loved Wilde, loved Oscar.

But Zolf also knew that it had been the weeks and months prior. The missions, and shared rooms, and hiding, he’d realized he’d been telling Wilde for months in his own way. In the fresh bread he made and shared first with Wilde, in the careful watch he’d kept for days over Wilde after he’d nearly been flayed, in the pale braids that sit perfectly plaited against the back of Wilde’s neck now as he slowly reads. He told him he needed him, but in the moment he doesn’t think that is enough, not after it all, not after he’d lost him once, not when this chance was so fleeting and momentary that it might slip away again just as quickly.

So Zolf leans forward, pressing his cheek to the top of Oscar’s head, breathing in his soap and the fragrance oils he used in his hair. Wilde goes quiet beneath him, but it is not an uncomfortable silence. It is the silence that says he knows that Zolf wants to say something, something he needs to think on for a moment before he blurts it out, so Oscar waits, reaching a hand up to grasp the one that Zolf is still resting on his shoulder.

“I told you that I needed you,” He finally says out loud, sucking another breath in as he lifts his head.

“and I you Zolf.”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that Wilde, it all feels so small now, and I thought that I could press on until we sorted out the world, until things weren’t so fucked, and then maybe…” He pauses, and Wilde’s thumb is rubbing gentle circles against his own. “I don’t know what, but I can’t... We lost you, I lost you, and I don’t think it really hit me until now what that would have meant, that we never could have… that I never could have told you.” Wilde turns to face him, how can they have taken all signs of hurt and scars from him, and yet he still look so fragile, so old, so tired and worn and gods all Zolf wants is to give him a quiet place, where the world isn’t ending and their friends aren’t dead, and their biggest responsibility is to make sure the pasta water doesn’t over boil.

“I, I need to tell you that… I, I love you. And I don’t when it started or how it happened but I want to be with you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I can’t go on without you knowing because it’s eating me from the inside out, I love you so goddamn much, and you were gone, and I thought…” Zolf doesn’t realize he’s crying until Oscar is kissing him, until he feels the pads of his thumbs brushing the salty blotches from his cheeks, and then the lips are gone and he pressing his forehead to Zolf’s.

“I know.” He says it so gently, “I thought you knew I felt the same. I didn’t want to spring it on you. We’ve been through a lot, but I love you too, and I don’t plan to make a habit of dying.”

“You better not.”

“Let’s get some sleep, we can talk about this more in the morning.” Zolf nods and he feels a weight that’s been on his chest for over a year start to lift, as Wilde takes his hand and leads him to the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at oncetherelivedaboy.tumblr.com


End file.
